Piece of Cheesecake
by musicnotes093
Summary: Mikayla finds Boomer sitting at the beach, staring towards the horizon, to nowhere in particular, at a very premature hour of the day. Mikaymer  Mikayla/Boomer  friendship.


**Title: **"Piece of [Cheese]cake"

**Rating: **FR7

**Genre: **Friendship, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing: **Mikaymer (Mikayla/Boomer) friendship only

**Summary: **Mikayla finds Boomer sitting at the beach, staring towards the horizon, to nowhere in particular, at a very premature hour of the day.

**Notes: **Yes, new "Pair of Kings" addict here. *grins* I've been itching to write a story for this fandom for so long! I already have three plots-two multi-chapters and this one shot! Those plot bunnies are really zealous! Anyways, we shall go on with the story. I have one Sonny with a Chance fic I still have to update (after two years of abandonment :P ).

Enjoy, guys!

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><p>Pairs of feet lightly shuffle through the throne room as a group of people anxiously flood in. They try to make no significant sound while they carry on their search, taking care not to call any attention to themselves unless they find it necessary to do so. After all, the entirety of the kingdom and the people living in its domain are mostly lying in deep slumber that the gentle breeze of the night provides. That, and they do not want to wake up the other king, who is still unaware that his brother is missing.<p>

"Muhamma, Eri, both of you go out to the plaza. Ask the other guards if they have seen King Boomer anywhere," Mason commands the two men standing closer to the gate. "If none of them had, report back to me immediately. I'll form a search party to send to the jungle."

Muhamma and Eri nod, and then they leave to do their task.

Heart hammering loudly in his chest, Mason stands still to think where the young boy might be. He can remember clearly the King's father's plea to him before he died, that he wants Mason to take good care of his twin sons as if they were his own, and it makes him more nervous and agitated. He will not be able to bear it in his conscience if one of the boys gets taken and harmed.

Mikayla appears behind him, out of breath after running back from the garden at the back of the castle. "Daddy," she calls to him quietly, slightly wheezing as she speaks. "He's not in the garden either. I also looked around the perimeter of the fish pond. He's not there."

Mason bites his lower lip, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. He shakes his head in frustration. "Where can he be?" he asks, directing the question to no one in particular.

"Don't worry. We'll find him," Mikayla tells him. She knows her father has the tendency to inflict too much stress upon himself when it's not required.

Mason nods with uncertainty. He walks out of the open gate, his daughter on his tow, and meets with the other guards who have congregated themselves in the middle of the plaza.

Eri turns his head to their direction then draws closer to the advisor. "None of them had seen King Boomer, sir," he says, adapting the intense nervousness that others feel. "But Kian said that the night guards had just changed shifts not too long ago. And, well, there was. . ." He continues no more.

Mason crosses his arms. "A five-minute gap between the change," he fills in. He sighs, and then pauses to think. "Alright. Continue looking for ten more minutes. If we hadn't find him by then, Muhamma, I want you to wake up King Brady and tell him what's happening. Take a few more guards with you, and do _not_ let him get out of your sight. The Tarantula People get opportunistic, especially if they want something done." Nods come back as answers. "Good. Now let's split."

Men disperse at different directions. Mikayla moves as quickly as they do but before she can go any further, a hand grabs her by the wrist. She looks back.

"Where do you think you're going?" her father inquires.

She frowns. "To look for Boomer," she answers, a bit bewildered by his question.

"No you're not."

Mikayla's frown deepens. "What? Dad-I can handle this. I know how to protect myself. Plus, Boomer's in trouble. That's what's important right now." With that, she gently pulls her hand away before she proceeds.

"No, Mikayla. You're not getting into this. It's too dangerous. Go back home."

"But Dad-"

"No but's," Mason firmly states. "This is a risk I cannot and will not take." The expression on his face softens as a reluctant pout forms in his daughter's lips. "Come on, sweetheart. Do this for me. Go home."

Mikayla fights hard not to roll her eyes because of her father's strictness. She nods, and then she walks to a different direction, fully knowing that she is being watched. Not long after, she hears him departing, perhaps to join the other guards. The thought of discreetly helping in the search crosses her mind a few times, but she finds that it will be an unwise course of action at that moment. Her dad is already in too much distress for her to disobey.

She turns left when she reaches the walkway leading to the beach in hopes to get home quicker. The ocean has already begun blowing frigid western winds, causing the landscape of sands to get colder. She feels its hostility to warmth in the sole of her feet and between her toes. She treads a faster pace as a frozen spell runs through her spine.

Before ascending a flight of stairs, the meek call of the ocean waves catches her attention. She lifts her eyes up to glance at it, and it is then that she sees a figure sitting still near the shore. She stops then assesses him. Stealthily, she inches closer to him to get a good look. When she gets a clear glimpse of the back of his neck, the slope of his shoulder, and the back of his shirt, she exhales the breath she has been holding. "Your majesty," she speaks, and the figure slightly jumps up.

"Oh," he says, and then he looks up at her, obviously in loss of words. "Girl, you scared me."

"And _you _scared _us,_" she replies indignantly. She places her hands on her hips. "Boomer, what are you doing out of the castle at this hour of the day? And why did you leave without telling anyone?"

Boomer glances up at her once more, terror in his eyes. "I…can…explain?"

She crosses her arms. "I'm waiting."

"Uh, well, Brady, he's…he's sleepwalking again and, um, he slee…he slap-he slaps me! Yes! He slaps me. And you know I can't deal with that. Being hurt _while_ I'm sleeping, while dreaming a nightmare," he explains nervously, then he laughs.

However, after his mirth dies down to an askew smile, she notes that he's not telling the truth. She drops her arms and her stern expression. "Do you want to tell me the real reason why?" she asks.

He smirks weakly, his eyebrows slightly knitting. "What do you mean? I already told you-"

"Oh, please. If there's one thing I learned from being with you and your brother, it's that you have certain habits when you do certain things. Like lying, for example."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Mikayla responds before she sits down beside him. "When you're not telling the truth, I know that you always bounce back the question to whoever asked you."

"I didn't 'bounce back' the question to you," Boomer says, making quotation marks on the fourth and fifth words in the air.

"No, because you do that on instances or accidents that you think you can fix later on," Mikayla corrects him. "But for matters that you're confused and lost with, you make lame excuses. You intentionally try to push people away."

Boomer stares at her for a while, letting her thought sink into him. Then, a smirk forms in his lips. "Who are you. Doctor Feelbetter?"

Mikayla chuckles. "Now, come on, Boomer," she steers back to a solemn tone. "I'm serious. Something's bothering you really bad. Is it the kingdom? Is it the responsibilities? Is it something that someone did?"

He shakes his head. He does not tear his eyes away from the bright moon, although his attention is to Mikayla. "No, no, and yes," he answers after a pause. "No. Actually, the last one is a shaky 'yes' and more of a 'no.'"

"What do you mean?"

"It's not really what he did that gets me. It's something that _I _am doing to him that gets on my nerves," he answers, vaguely irritated by the words that came out of his mouth.

"Wait. Are you talking about Brady?" Mikayla asks. An incensed expression overwhelms her features. "Don't tell me you guys are playing tricks on each other again. I've told you before that it can get very awry."

"It's not that," Boomer chuckles, perceiving her comment rather inane. "It's-" He stops, and then sighs. "Has it occurred to you that ever since my brother and I got on this island that we had been getting in a lot of trouble?"

"Oh, it has occurred to me," Mikayla nods her head slowly while sardonically smiling. "It has occurred to me a _lot_ of times."

"Have you noticed that almost every time it's Brady that gets hurt because of me?"

Mikayla hears a hint of woe in his tone, and it alarms her. "Your Majesty-"

"I always get him in trouble," Boomer says, although it seems like he speaks more to himself than to her. "Be honest with me. Tell me the truth, or I'll throw you to the dungeon for a year." He looks at Mikayla in the eyes. "Am I far too reckless?"

Mikayla's lips part to vocalize a 'no,' but instead she finds it hard to push any word out of her mouth. Perhaps it's the threat of being locked in for a year that anchors down any will to lie to make him feel better. Or, maybe, it's her conscience that dictates her mouth and her gut to fail function.

Boomer scoffs then laughs resentfully. "That's what I thought," he mutters. He resumes watching the dark waves at mid-ocean.

"Boomer…"

"You know, when Brady and I were younger," he cuts her, "we get beaten almost everyday. We've told you that, right? We've encountered much more bullies than any normal person should. I guess it was twice more because, hey, there's two of us. But one thing I'm sure you didn't know is that one of our bullies-Steve McGowan?-used to pick on only me."

"Why?"

"Because he can," Boomer answers. "And he likes to. I mean, who can pass up the opportunity to pick on the weak, heavy-set kid that has barbecue grills for braces so that he can prove himself to other bullies?"

"That's horrible," Mikayla comments, feeling guilt throbbing in her ribcage for not lying to Boomer.

Boomer nods. "It gets better," he adds with feigned cheerfulness. "He calls me names. Horrible ones. Awful ones. Ones that you should never have to hear in your lifetime. I cried, but I didn't let anyone see me. I didn't let anyone know. I told myself to man up. Didn't work. Brady saw me crying one day, and I told him. It was a big mistake, because the next day he tried to tell Steve to back off. We came home, and this time he was the one crying. He had bruises all over his face and a terrible black eye, which was how Aunt Nancy and Uncle Bill found out. We were only seven, then. He shouldn't have been hurt like that."

"It wasn't your fault," Mikayla attempts to ease his burden, but when she catches sight of his eyes she knows that it's to no avail.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Still. I was the reason why it happened."

"You should not be hard on yourself. What happens in the past should stay in when it happened. Things are different now."

"Is it?" he asks her, growing frustrated. "I can remember at least four instances at the top of my head when Brady got in danger because of me. That waka-waka sting," he begins, unfolding the fingers from his fist one by one as he goes through the list, "that pirate, Two Peg; the Tarantula People; Pupaley-don't you see? It's Chicago all over again. Only this time," he surveys his surrounding, "you know, we're in a tropical island with unlimited food and gold and pretty girls." "So what's the matter?" Mikayla inquires. "If you can keep up with the Chicago there, I'm sure you and Brady can keep up with the Chicago here."

"No," Boomer shakes his head before he stands up. "It's different now. It's bad enough that he gets hurt every time I mess up. Now I have to think about the people of this island, too. I'm afraid that one day I'll get too much over my head, and I'll put everybody's life in danger." He scoffs. "Brady will be safer if I'm away from him. He doesn't need me to rule this island, anyway. Actually, I think that from the beginning, he's the one who's meant to be the king. It doesn't matter which one of us is actually the oldest. He's more responsible than I am, more conscientious, and, I hate to admit it, he's the looker between the two of us," he confesses in mock annoyance through gritted teeth.

Mikayla remains silent as she tries to absorb the self-doubt that Boomer has laid in front of her. In all honesty, the revelation, if anything, touched her heart and stunned her speechless. She never thought of him as a guy who would concern himself with such burdens.

Boomer poses a weak, lopsided grin. "Look, Mikayla. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have troubled you with my problem," he says, catching her attention. "I'll probably just call Aunt Nancy tomorrow. Surely she'll help me with it." Mikayla stands up, regarding him nonetheless with anxiety. "Well, goodnight," he waves, then starts to walk back to the castle.

"We need a king like you, you know."

Boomer halts, knits his eyebrows, then turns around. "What?" he asks, though he fully understood what she said.

"We need a king like you," Mikayla repeats.

Boomer chuckles bitterly. "Don't force yourself to lie, Mikayla," he says. "I won't throw you to the dungeon if you did not make me feel-"

"I mean it," she interrupts firmly. "If I can be honest, Your Majesty, I do find you irresponsible most of the time. You treat everything as if it were a game." She watches as the last drop of feigned joy illuminating Boomer's face evaporate into more hurt. Instinctively she senses the urge to take back the sentiments that came out of her mouth, but some other forces within her, perhaps her logic and an inkling of her heart, tell her to leave it said. She smiles encouragingly. "But when it comes down to it, between you and Brady, you have the most audacity to do things. You're determined and," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes, "you don't think with your inner playboy like your brother, you think with what's the best for everyone in mind. Dad has told me stories about your father, and, even if I had not had the chance to meet him, I can see him in you. He was a great king; you will be also."

A harmless smirk curls in Boomer's lips. "Do you mean that?" he asks, like a child seeking for sincerity from his friend's statement.

Mikayla catches this, and it causes the guilt expanding within her to vanish. "If I was lying, I wouldn't have added the insult," she replies. Boomer laughs silently. "And you know what? There's something that I owe you," she adds as an idea hit her. "Stay here. I'll be back in a second." She jogs away.

She comes back a few minutes later bearing a plate with a big slice of cake, beaming at the puzzled Boomer. "Here you go," she hands it to him, triggering the frown on his face to deepen.

"What's this?" he asks, intrigued.

"Remember a few months ago? When we agreed on putting up a 'Trouble-Free Days' counter beside the vault? This is the 'Good Boy' cake for the twentieth day," she answers cheerfully.

"But we didn't even get to the twentieth day," Boomer reasons.

"I know, but with all of the things you were willing to do for this island, I think you deserve at least a fourth of that cake," Mikayla says.

Boomer nods, and for the first time that morning a sincere smile emerges on his face. He stares at the prize, easily developing a strong desire to see what it tastes like. He bites the edge. His features brighten upon the moment he detects a medley of sweet and tart rolling along his tongue. "Mmm. Cheesecake," he moans. "Blueberry." He turns to the person in front of him. "You're the best baker, Mikayla." Then, he freezes. "Uh, don't tell Lia that. I've always told her that her bakery has the best stuff in the island," he pleads, then he takes another bite.

Mikayla chuckles. She finds herself at ease and glad that she helped Boomer with his problem. She is there for him as friend. And for a passing shadow of time, she wonders if he thinks of her as a friend, too.

"Thank you. Mikayla," Boomer tells her. "Thank you for being honest and…for being here."

"No problem," she responds.

Boomer grins. "Come on," he says. "Bring it in."

"Bring in what?" Mikayla asks, curiously reflecting the grin on his face.

He opens his arms, the plate carefully held in his left hand. Mikayla smirks, understanding what he meant. She hugs him, not thinking much of it. She knows it's just a kindly gesture, and Boomer views it the same way. Soon, they break off, then they start giggling like little children who share a deep secret.

It escapes their notice, however, that someone is watching them. The eyes of the observer narrows as any reasoning is shadowed by green clouds. What took place is unacceptable, unforgivable, unforgettable. A seed of strong dislike begins to germinate within him, and he doubts its strength will wane enough to be removed in the future.

"King Brady?"

The call does not faze him. He glances sideway with his eyes, his jaws locked tight to one another, and then nods to the beach. "There's that traitor," he says. Mason cranes his head then sighs a breath of relief as he sees Boomer and Mikayla talking. Nonetheless, the way Brady addressed his brother fails to escape his notice. Brady, not caring about the words that escaped his lips, strides back to the bedroom, keeping in mind not to forget what his brother did.

He will never forget it.

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><p><strong>Reading's appreciated, reviewing's loved! <strong>


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